I still remember that Father’s Day, 14 years ago. You wore that special ruffled purple dress I loved. You looked beautiful walking down those stairs. It made me smile. When I shook your hand, later that day, and told you that you’d been a good daughter for twenty-seven years, I knew my health was tedious and moments left might be few. I did not know how few. I had no way of knowing, even if becoming sicker, that I had but a week. I had plans. I know you did too.
I’ve watched you go on to finish school, get married, and not only live a dream but also experience a miracle in delivering my only grandchild. Watching Emily, the baby you named when you were a kid, grow up is such a joy and I wish I were there to hug her in person. But, I’m there.
All those days, Emily sees me at the pool, I’m there. When she sees me in the clouds, I’m there. I do talk to her. I fly over to visit. I’m always there.
You’re still a good daughter but, more than that, you’re an equally good wife and absolutely the best mother. Thank you for keeping my memory alive. I love you.
My dad had three granddaughter’s that were the sun, the moon and stars to him. I love the thought of him in the pool, in clouds, flying over the grandgirls, loving them from afar. This is a sad but hopeful poem and the choice of voice is unexpected and reassuring at the same time. Nicely done.
Oh, how beautifully tragic! How blessed you must have been to be so loved.